


stay a little bit while the sun's out

by solyn



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, also they're dating if you think qrow is sleeping on the floor you're wrong lmao, anyway this is very wholesome i assure u, fallin asleep together, ironwood lives in squalor and qrow is dramatic gay and likes like 3 fancy things, set post volume6, this is rated t because i let yang say fuck, will i ever stop having a potty mouth? answer is no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 13:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18165545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solyn/pseuds/solyn
Summary: the old adage goes 'after darkness comes the dawn'. blake thinks the dawn skipped town, and she's woken up to the sun herself.





	stay a little bit while the sun's out

**Author's Note:**

> anon i'm actually SO SORRY this took so long! thank you for requesting something & i hope this was as good as what you were expecting! either way it was a pleasure to write and i had a lot of fun! this isn't beta'd because i'm an idiot but i'm 98% sure there are no mistakes. soundtrack for this fic & the title are from [hummingbird](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fDZo3wZWOV8) by wildling.

“You’re still here?” Yang’s whole body tightened like a coil as she tried to keep her feet firmly connected to the ground. She turned, watching Blake carefully rub at her left eye, using her ring finger to scrape away the sleep gathering in the corners. Her half-asleep tone wasn’t particularly accusatory, simply surprised and a little curious. The sunlight filtered through the windows of Ironwood’s apartment, rays turning Blake’s eyes into pools of liquid gold, and her hair to free-flowing ink. Yang couldn’t help but soften at the sight of her.

 

“Yeah,” she said simply, “I figured it was probably better you didn’t wake up alone. I was making coffee.” She gestured vaguely to the two cups waiting on the counter. Blake gave her a shy smile.

 

“You didn’t have to do that. I would have been fine without it,” her smile widened a tad, voice tentatively teasing, “you know I don’t like coffee that much.” Yang narrowed her eyes, not bothering to keep her matching smile from her lips as she reached out, tugging at the oversized sweater Blake had yanked on to stave off the cold. A muffled laugh caught in Blake’s throat as Yang pulled her into hugging range, slipping both arms around her waist.

 

“I was  _ trying _ to be thoughtful,” she groused, resting her cheek against the top of Blake’s head, “and if you’ll excuse my Vaccuan, it’s fucking  _ cold _ outside. I’d much rather stay in here where it’s warm… with you.” Blake’s cheeks reddened as she curled into Yang’s hug, a content sigh escaping her lips as she felt the steadying pressure of Yang’s hand against the back of her head, fingers arching to press into her scalp and massage, idly.

 

“It’s  _ very  _ thoughtful of you, Yang, really,” Blake pulled back, hesitating for a brief moment, before she rested her hands against Yang’s biceps, “you didn’t have to.”

 

“Maybe not,” Yang shrugged in the manner that Blake had come to recognize as meaning ‘I’m trying to seem like I don’t care when I actually care a lot’, “buuut you crashed pretty early last night, and whether it was fractured sleep or deep sleep you were gonna be tired either way, so I figured it would be a nice precaution. And I’ve been trying to figure out what Weiss does to her coffee that makes it taste so good. Mine is still… subpar.” Yang’s face screwed up in a pensive frown as she twisted a short strand of hair around her finger. It was Blake’s turn to soften; Yang’s little thinking gestures had always made her look so gorgeous; tall and sunny and  _ cute _ with the little trenches between her brows.

 

“She probably enchants it with dust,” Blake whispered conspiratorially. Yang’s face broke into a grin as she shot Blake a sly side-look.

 

“She would be absolutely  _ scandalized  _ at the implication, Miss Belladonna.”

 

“Good thing she’s not here to defend herself,” Blake shot back breezily.

 

“I’ll have to defend her honour.” Blake’s brow furrowed in confusion, before two of Yang’s fingers jabbed her ribs, and Blake yelped out a laugh, bringing her elbows back to protect her sides as she skittered backwards. Yang followed her, nimble fingers seeking her ribs to try and tickle her further as she nimbly danced back. Yang’s shoulders shook with silent chuckles as Blake retreated out of the kitchen to the safety of the couches, upending Jaune’s sleeping bag as she leapt onto the cushions.

 

“Yang!” Her name was light on her tongue, coloured gold like honey as Yang stumbled over the air mattress that she’d taken up for the night, facing off against Blake with a twinkle in her eye. “You’re going to burn your coffee,” she announced, faking to the right. Yang took a step to mimic her, still grinning broadly.

 

“Pretty sure you can’t burn water,” she retorted, “it’s just the shitty freeze-dried stuff. Uncle Qrow was having a conniption over it. He couldn’t  _ believe _ that the esteemed General Ironwood didn’t even own an  _ Atlesian press _ .” Blake bit back a laugh, lilting her voice with her best mocking accent.

 

“Oh, how  _ refined _ of him,” she said, snatching Oscar’s pillow with a lightning-fast movement and swinging it at Yang’s head. The blonde lifted her arms to block it with a sharp bark of laughter. Taking advantage of the distraction, Blake vaulted from one couch to the other, steadying herself against the crush of blankets that Ruby had left in her wake. She turned, hair whipping about her face as she tried to spot Yang.

 

At the same moment, an arm wrapped around her waist and a sensation swiped the feelings of her legs from under her. She shrieked in surprise, laughter punctuating the noise, as she landed squarely in Yang’s arms, throwing her arms around her neck for support as the blonde swung her around. They came to a stop on a solid patch of wood, Yang’s strong shoulders heaving with laughter as Blake tipped her head back, lifting a hand to smooth her hair back from her face, so that she could better see Yang’s.

 

It always amazed her how Yang’s hair looked like fire in the sunlight. The purple of her eyes was vibrant and  _ alive _ , as sharp as they had been at Beacon, still softened around the edges by her sunny laugh and the dimple that cut into her cheek when she grinned. Blake’s breath caught in her throat, her ears pricking forward as she watched Yang laugh. As her chuckles subsided, her brilliant, beautiful eyes lifted to meet Blake’s. Her head tilted just-so, curiously.

 

“What?”

 

“I guess you caught me,” Blake said softly, suddenly much more interested in the way that Yang’s lips moved. They fell into a little ‘o’ for a second, before her jaw closed, teeth brushing her lower lip as the corners turned upward into a warm smile.

 

“Yeah,” Yang said, still looking at Blake, “I guess I did.” Neither of them moved; Yang backlit by the morning sun and radiant as ever, Blake cradled in her arms, one hand hovering uncertainly between them. Carefully, slowly, she unfurled her fingers, touched them to Yang’s jaw, pushed them further toward her neck as her thumb brushed against her lips, ducked under her chin. Yang’s breath caught in her throat, and she leaned upward and in, as Blake pressed closer to her, eyes fluttering closed.

 

There was a click from the other room. Yang yanked back.

 

“Shit!” Carefully, she stooped, making sure Blake’s feet were back on solid ground before she let go of her, darting back toward the kitchen. Blake fought the furious redness rising in her cheeks, scrubbing at them with the heels of her hands and flapping her fingers like fans in front of her face to try and rid herself of the blush before Yang made a reappearance.

 

“What? Is everything okay?”

 

“Yeah! Yeah, just- the coffee.” Blake tipped her head back, smiled at the ceiling. While Yang fussed, she moved across to their makeshift sleeping arrangements. General Ironwood likely hadn’t been prepared for their motley team to turn up at his glorified bachelor pad entirely unannounced, aside from Qrow’s vague letter that had scheduled them to arrive days ago. Nonetheless, he’d done his best to provide hospitality: Maria on the fold-out cot in his study with Oscar on Jaune’s camping roll on the floor, Jaune and Ruby occupying the couches, Qrow in Ironwood’s room with Ruby’s camping roll, Nora and Ren around the back of the couches on their own, and then Weiss, Blake and Yang on an inflatable mattress that was definitely not big enough for three teenage girls. Especially not when one of the teenage girls was 6’1” with shoulders ‘bigger than an Ursa’, as Weiss had groused.

 

Blake didn’t mind. Yang’s shoulders were strong like her arms, and when she had wrapped them around Blake of her own volition and tucked her face against the back of her neck, Blake had suddenly felt like nothing in the world could ever hurt her again. Considering the events of the day before, her sleep had been mercilessly dreamless. She blinked, smoothing the last crease in the blankets, and looked up to see Yang hovering with a mug in each hand.

 

“What?” She asked, feeling colour rise to her cheeks again. Yang shrugged, smile fond, as she extended Blake’s cup of coffee to her.

 

“Nothing,” she said, “you’re just… ah, don’t worry about it.” She shook her head, as if clearing away some fog, and carefully seated herself next to Blake on the mattress, bracing her feet against the wooden floor. “I put milk in before the hot water to stop the mixture from singing, so hopefully it doesn’t taste like shit. Ironwood only has white sugar so I kind of lumped it in, I really don’t know how sweet it is.”

 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Blake assured her, taking a sip. The coffee wasn’t bad. For freeze-dried mix, it didn’t make Blake want to screw up her nose and wince, but it wasn’t life-changing, like the chocolate-loaded moccachino from the coffee shop around the corner from Beacon campus that Yang had dragged her to multiple times during late-night study sessions.

 

“Better if Weiss made it?” Yang asked.

 

“It’s okaaaay,” Blake said with a shrug, “what’s yours like?” Yang offered her mug to Blake, and so she took a sip. Immediately, she recoiled, swallowing with great reluctance. Yang bit her lip, hard, to keep from laughing. “Ugh! That’s  _ terrible _ , it’s so bitter! How do you drink it like that?”

 

“My dad drinks it this way,” Yang said, the amusement palpable in her tone. Blake tried to chase the taste away with another sip of her own coffee.

 

“And he just let his child drink  _ that _ ?”

 

“Oh, no,” Yang’s laughter was abrupt and sharp, “when I was thirteen, the regional Junior Huntsman tournament was in Patch, so my dad wanted to help me prepare with early training lessons. He used to make me hot chocolate for a ‘sugar kick’, but he got our thermoses mixed up one morning and when he figured it out he was  _ distraught _ . Like, I’m talking absolutely beside himself. Remember when Zwei was in the dorms and Weiss accidentally stepped on one of his paws? Yeah, that level of hysteria.” Blake couldn’t help but laugh at the memory, scooting closer to Yang to rest against her shoulder.

 

“But you ended up liking it like that?”

 

“Yeah,” Yang smiled, tracing her thumb absently around the rim of her mug, “it reminds me of him, whenever I drink coffee, and how hard we laughed about the mix up. And it reminds me of when Uncle Qrow would come to visit in winters, and Dad would make us all shitty black coffee- and hot chocolate for Ruby of course- and Atlesian toast, with fresh fruit from the garden. He used to have to wrestle Ruby for the maple syrup, or she would have  _ flooded _ her plate with it.”

 

“It sounds nice,” Blake said, “but it’s still no excuse for that atrocity.” Yang laughed, leaning her cheek against the top of Blake’s head. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, warmed by the sun’s rays and the hot mugs against the palms of their hands. The apartment was quiet, peaceful. Blake realized that it was one of the few times she’d managed to catch Yang alone since they’d reunited at Haven.

 

“Where’s everyone else?”

 

“Huh? Oh. Ironwood and Uncle Qrow are taking Oscar to Atlas Academy to stash the relic. Ruby wanted to go with them, but Weiss  _ insisted  _ they go shopping together, and then Jaune, Ren and Nora are tagging along. They’re meant to be getting cold-weather gear. I told Weiss I trusted her to get something for you and me… I hope that’s okay.”

 

“Yeah,” Blake nodded, curling one hand around Yang’s bicep, “that’s fine. I didn’t really feel like going anywhere today, anyway.” Yang’s expression was, for all of a brief second, unreadable, before her features softened, and she put down her mug to place her still-warm hand against Blake’s.

 

“How are you feeling today? After… you know, everything.” Blake’s ears flattened.

 

“I…” she started, “well-”

 

“Blake,” Yang’s voice was gentle, her hands gripping Blake’s much the same way she’d taken Yang’s in the barn at Brunswick, finger massaging warmth into her knuckles, “I don’t care about the perfect answer. I care about you.” Her eyes met Blake’s again, imploring but firm. Blake’s shoulders relaxed, and she blew out a sigh, shifting to rest against Yang’s side, tension dissipating from her body as Yang wrapped an arm around her.

 

“I… don’t think it’s set in that he’s gone yet. Like,  _ really _ gone I mean. I’ve been running away from him for so long it… feels like second nature to be looking over my shoulder.” She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. “I’m okay. Just… tired. I don’t think I’ll really be up to much today, sorry.”

 

“You don’t have to apologize to me for that,” Yang’s lips pressed to her temple before she had a chance to mumble out another apology, “it was a tough thing to experience. Whatever you’re feeling about it is valid, and whatever you need, I’m here for you.” Blake couldn’t help a smile settling onto her face, as she squeezed Yang’s hand as best she could.

 

“I hope you know that goes for you too. Are  _ you  _ doing okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Yang nodded once, firmly, “I am. And not just because I have to be. I think things are easier when you’re around.” Blake’s eyebrow raised, and Yang’s face flushed. She turned away, quickly picking her mug back up. She took a gulp of coffee, and Blake snorted a little.

 

“You’re going to burn your throat.”

 

“Mgh,” Yang said. Blake scooted closer, resting her head against Yang’s shoulder. The blonde was silent for a moment, metallic fingers drumming against the ceramic of the mug absently.

 

“All my life, I’ve had to be strong,” her voice startled Blake, and she sat up to blink at Yang’s unflinching profile, “or at least I thought I had to be. When my Dad got depressed after he lost Summer, I wanted to step up for him, and along the way somewhere, I forgot how to take a step back. I put up these walls that never needed to exist and convinced myself that if I ever fell apart, everything else around me would crumble. When… when I was back in Patch, after you… went home, I was lost.  _ Really  _ lost. All I wanted was for you to come back because… well, things were easy with you. Really easy. And that’s not to say you should have stayed, because I think in the long run, it ended up being what was best for both of us, but… I’m glad you’re back now.” Yang paused, reaching out to take Blake’s hand again. She laced their fingers together, squeezing firmly.

 

“You’re the first person I’ve trusted to see the real me in a very long time. There’s always been something about you, right from the moment I first saw you at Beacon. The more I got to know you, the more I wanted you to know me… and I realized it was an equivalent exchange. If I showed you more of me, then you would show me more of you, and I liked that  _ so  _ much. I was more me when you were around then I ever knew how to be before I met you. You… keep me grounded. When I’m sad, the thought of you is the first thing that makes me happy. When I’m angry, you’re the first thing that makes me calm. None of that means you have any obligation to me… I just wanted you to know. You’re my tether, Blake. You’re what I’ve got on this earth that’s worth living for.”

 

“Yang…” Blake’s eyes welled with tears. She placed her mug down to wipe her eyes on the back of her sweater sleeve, before she shifted and crawled into her lap, wrapping both arms around her shoulders. Yang’s arms encircled her waist and tugged her close as Blake pushed her fingers through Yang’s unruly blonde hair and cradled her head close.

 

“You’re what keeps me fighting, Yang,” she whispered, close to her ear, “when days are tough, you’re who I look to because you are strong, and that strength inspires me… but I hope you know on days when it’s too much to be strong all the time, I’ll be strong for you.”

 

“I know you will,” Yang hugged her tighter, breath shaky as she pressed her forehead into Blake’s shoulder, “we’re going to protect each other, like you said.”

 

“Yeah,” Blake sniffed a little, before she laughed abruptly, pressing a kiss to the top of Yang’s head, “yeah. Can we go back to bed?”

 

“Anything.”

 

Blake tugged back their makeshift covers as Yang quickly ran the mugs back to the kitchen. The air-mattress dipped under Yang’s knees, bouncing Blake unceremoniously. Yang laughed, stretching her arms out as an apology. Blake curled up across Yang’s arm, sighing contentedly as the other draped itself around her middle, hands pressing against her back to pull her closer.

 

“Is it just me, or do Ironwood’s blankets smell weird?” She mumbled against Yang’s collarbone, feeling warmth seep through her body as Yang’s whole frame shook with laughter.

 

“They smell like they’ve been in a linen cupboard since before I was born,” she agreed sombrely, and Blake stifled a giggle against her shoulder, furling her fingers into Yang’s shirt. The morning sun warmed her hair and her back, bathing her in lazy comfort as Yang’s hands traced patterns onto her back. It felt right, as if she’d belonged in Yang’s arms all her life. And maybe she had- perhaps she’d just been too blind to see it, but she had little time to contemplate how right it felt as Yang’s lips pressed tenderly to her forehead. Her eyes were already closing, a blissful sleep washing over her, carrying her down a languid river where a waterfall crashed in the distance to the beat of Yang’s heart.

**Author's Note:**

> anyway delle seyah kendry & aneela kin rit invented wlw love with "you're my tether kendry" in this house we stan syfy killjoys and giving me romantic ideas. wlw feel free to call me ur tether i'll combust on the spot.  
> you can find me @yardeens on tumblr. come say hi & let me know what you thought!


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